


Dogs of War

by In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied Slash, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Morally Ambiguous Character, Post-Hogwarts, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Vigilantes, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: As a full moon rises, Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy have some unfinished business with the beasts who turned their lives upside down.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott
Comments: 21
Kudos: 63
Collections: Dumbledore's Armada: Wheel of Death Flash Fiction Comp





	Dogs of War

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wheel of Death Flash Fiction Comp hosted by Frumpologist in Dumbledore's Armada Discord Server. My chosen character was Theodore Nott. My Wheel of Death prompts were:  
> Additional Character: Draco Malfoy; Trope: Creatures; Theme: Deception; and Quote: “Cry ‘havoc!’ And let slip the dogs of war.” - William Shakespeare.  
> I'm thrilled to say this story won the following: Best use of Quote, and Runner-up Overall Favourite. 
> 
> I’d like to thank my beta ravenslight for her assistance.

The full moon hadn't always carried such heavy significance. In fact, when Theodore Nott had been young, he'd never even been able to remember the phases of the lunar rock that circulated his world.

But over the last five years, everything had changed.

Now, he lived by them.

It all started the night he'd been bitten and afflicted with lycanthropy. And it hadn't even been a full moon then.

Whoever thought werewolves would benefit from a stronger version of Wolfsbane—wherein the werewolf would be able to refrain from transforming at all—hadn't foreseen the side effects. Or the blatant and problematic abuse that would stem from them.

That a greater control of the transformation would allow them to learn to shift at will while remaining in control of two minds—both human and beast.

The pack that hunted humans for sport, just off the southern coast—the ones that had attacked Theo and his best mate, Draco Malfoy, five years ago—had come to regret that decision.

But still, some of them remained.

Theo could still smell them in his waking hours and his worst nightmares.

A smirk curled his lips, revealing razor sharp canines, carefully filed to a devastating point. He dragged his tongue across the tip, tasting his own blood.

Idly sharpening the wicked blade of a silver dagger, he sat within the quiet of the forest outside his cabin as he watched the moon on a slow ascent to its peak through the canopy.

Tonight, with any luck, the last of them would pay.

Theo could scent him before Draco joined him on the step, dragging sharp nails along Theo's scalp. Briefly, his eyes fluttered shut.

They laid no claim to one another, but he would be lying to say they'd never indulged in the carnal pleasures of the flesh beneath a silver moon on a clear night.

"You're going to hurt yourself with that thing," Draco drawled as he loaded a round of silver bullets into his pistol. His long hair was tied back, the scruff on his jaw thick.

Theo snorted even as he slid the blade into its sheath at his waist. He cracked his knuckles, eyes grazing the deep scar tissue along his forearm, camouflaged beneath weather-worn ink. "I am not."

Of the two of them, Draco was the one who knew first-hand the agony of silver breaking flesh; Theo could still remember the fear that had raced through him that night at the thought of losing the only person who still stood by him through everything.

They'd been lucky that night that a certain bushy-haired healer friend of theirs had been able to help.

Draco snickered but didn't say anything. They typically refrained from dredging forth those memories. "Are you nearly set to go?"

Humming, Theo leaned back against the wall of the cabin. "Soon."

They would be going for a run that night.

It had taken months of planning and preparation, several years back, to work their way into the inner echelons of the pack that had turned them. To earn the trust of those they sought to destroy.

Back when vengeance had been fresh and all-encompassing on their minds; they'd been feral for it like the first taste of blood.

And by the time the others realised they'd been deceived, it was far too late.

Theo and Draco had taken out nearly half the pack that night in a carefully orchestrated slaughter. And after a fight the likes of which they'd never seen, they'd barely escaped with their lives.

There had been countless others since, across Great Britain and onto the continent. Those who hunted humans for no reason other than the enjoyment of it, who abused the potions they'd been offered and gave back control of the beasts within. The ones too far gone to the primal desire for flesh.

But always, they thought of those that remained of the pack along the coast. The alpha and a half dozen others still roamed freely, keen to avoid the wrath of those two psychotic young weres, more trouble than they were worth.

Theo wondered if their sire regretted turning them; he couldn't wait to see the fear in his eyes.

The wizarding papers called it a systematic elimination of werewolves.

Draco liked to call it justice.

When the moon was perched just so in the sky, Theo rose to his feet, double-checking each of his weapons with care as Draco followed suit.

His gaze slid along the curve of Draco's arse in his worn leather trousers. Maybe there would be time for play after the work was done.

Their gazes met, and Theo allowed his nails to lengthen, his vision sharpening in the dark as he called upon the most valuable assets of the gift.

Still, some called it a curse.

"Cry 'havoc'," he breathed.

Draco flashed a grin, all sharp fangs and anticipation. "And let slip the dogs of war."

* * *

Although they could have chosen to Apparate, Theo always found he preferred a run, the wind roaring in his ears and drawing moisture to his eyes. It took them a few hours to reach the coast, and by the time they came across the scents of the pack that had turned them, the moon was high in the sky.

He knew Draco preferred the idea that they would smell them coming. That the fear would creep along their spines, raising their hackles.

They transformed back into their _mostly_ human forms—Theo couldn't even remember the last time he'd worn his useless human teeth—and set out to stalk their prey.

It had been so long ago now since they'd discovered the thrill of the hunt that they'd learned the best ways in which they worked together.

So familiar it was instinctive.

Following his senses, Theo drew his blade. In their wolf forms, the pack could outrun them—but they couldn't out-strategise them.

The fight tonight was personal, and Theo wanted to see their sire's eyes before his dagger poisoned his blood.

He met Draco's stare, silver in the brightness of the moon, and a slow grin dragged across his face.

Throwing his head back, Theo released a ringing howl, raw in his throat as it echoed through the night.

The chase was on.

* * *

Theo's hands were filthy with dried blood, only some of which was his own. He was physically and mentally fatigued, but his heart danced in his chest in a combination of bloodlust and suspense.

A lazy smirk tugged at his lips; he'd been bitten more than once, but it wasn't as if he could be infected again. As Draco wrapped a strip of fabric around a wound on his arm, his hands rough but gentle, Theo located the scent of the last one to evade them.

The alpha—their sire.

After years of preparation and tracking, it had finally come down to this. Theo could almost taste the relief that would come from putting an end to it, once and for all.

Through their time spent inside the pack, plotting to dismantle it from within, they'd come to know the man. It was during those months that Theo had given in to his inner beast and allowed the human in him to begin to slough away like old skin. When he had learned to embrace the truth of what he had become.

But the alpha was as cruel as he was vindictive, and neither Theo nor Draco had any love for the beast who had created them. Not once had they seen him think twice before attacking innocent, harmless humans. Men, women, and children alike. The alpha had long since forsaken any human sensibilities.

At Theo's side Draco was introspective, loading a fresh round into his pistol. He knew the significance of the moment weighed on them both. They could never undo what had happened—and they both knew there was no going back from everything they'd done in an effort to right so many wrongs—but they could finally begin to move on.

Theo wrapped his good hand around Draco's shoulder, his claws digging in and jarring Draco back to the present.

"He's yours," Theo murmured, "if you want him."

Draco's eyes flashed as they met his, silver with the brightness of the moon and the beast within. He snapped the barrel of his gun shut. "I want him."

A lazy grin dragged across Theo's lips, and he dropped his head into a tilt. "Then let's go get him."

There would be little doubt in the alpha's mind that they were there to put an end to his miserable existence, and he no longer had any others to hide behind. If he had any sort of pride he wouldn't continue to run—surely he knew by now they wouldn't give up.

As though he did in fact recognise the end approaching, they didn't have to search long.

Trapped in a perpetual state of half man, half beast—Theo didn't know whether he could even transform at all anymore—they found the man, disdain souring his expression as saliva dripped from his shattered, yellowed fangs.

A rough, guttural laugh hacked from the back of his throat when he saw them.

"Here for me at last," the alpha said, his tone cruel and taunting. His eyes were black as night and dead inside. "Lousy ingrates. You would kill your own sire."

A classic Malfoy smirk spread across Draco's face as he drew his pistol and Theo couldn't withhold his own grin.

"We don't owe you," Draco breathed into the still of the night, "a damn thing."

Theo's world righted itself on its axis with no fanfare and a single, resounding shot, a flash of light in the dark. The beast's body crumpled to the forest floor, dark blood soaking into the mossy ground.

For several minutes they only stared, Theo aware of each breath as he felt the fear, the despair and resentment, melt away from his soul.

Draco nudged the alpha's immobile form with his toe, his lip curling as he stowed his pistol, before he slung an arm across Theo's shoulders with a sigh of relief. "Can't say I ever wanted a pack anyways."

Theo barked a laugh. "More of a lone wolf, I'd say." He snickered, casting Draco a sidelong glance. "Less you, of course."

"Of course." Draco's grin softened into something else. "Peace at last, my friend."

Clapping a hand to his back, Theo chuckled. "Until the next group of arsehole weres crop up somewhere."

Draco ruffled his hair, claws stinging at his skin, and Theo shook him off, feeling a lightness in his chest he hadn't expected.

An unfamiliar sparkle shone in Draco's eyes when they swivelled to find his. With a wry smirk, he muttered, "I'll race you home." Then he leapt into a dive, transforming mid-air before taking off at a sprint.

Theo huffed a string of curses under his breath, and he was off.


End file.
